


Home Again

by ardett



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Unus Annus, YouTube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23071669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardett/pseuds/ardett
Summary: Time heals all wounds. But some take longer to heal than others.or Mark punches a hole in the wall but they both get hurt.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach & Ethan Nestor, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 59
Kudos: 749





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Broken Plaster](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270156) by [LikeWaterisWet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeWaterisWet/pseuds/LikeWaterisWet). 



> I started writing this fic before Broken Plaster but I'm very slow and I read this fic and really enjoyed it! Please check it out if you get the chance because LikeWaterisWet did a fantastic job!
> 
> Based off [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkPE1aDlRMY) (and if the link doesn't work, you know what happened)
> 
> Title ripped from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JlZu5aH8S6E&list=PLRtkK6TD_2LIEXgIuMYZT9TvpVhkLdUyk&index=9)
> 
> I don't really wanna weight in on the morality of RPF but all I can say is this is for fun and people can do what they want and that's that. Enjoy!

250:00:00:00

“Mark, you got 9:13!” Ethan insists.

Mark feels a growl rise out of his throat. His legs are cramping just with the effort to stand. He runs his fingers through his hair and he knows it’s going to happen a moment before it does.

He screams and punches a hole in the wall.

Immediately, he knows something’s wrong. Sharp pain lances up the bone of his finger as he pulls his hand back out of the drywall. Yeah, he was frustrated and yeah, it’ll be a good bit for the video, but he probably shouldn’t have put a hole in the wall of his own house.

He turns, shaking his hand out, about to apologize when he hears Ethan say, “What the fuck?”

It doesn’t sound like his video voice, loud and sometimes whiny. The words sound breathy, strained, almost inaudible.

The video, Mark thinks, this would probably be a funny part of the video. They could play it up a little bit more.

“This is your fault, you know. You provoked me.” He faces Ethan, who’s still sitting, frozen. “You’re going to pay for damages, I hope you know that.”

Mark’s finger throbs as he flexes his hand. Ethan’s eyes dart from Mark’s hand, to his face, to the hole in the wall. He doesn’t answer right away.

“Ethan?” Mark prompts, a little softer this time. They’re probably going to cut this out anyway now that Ethan doesn’t seem to be playing up his reaction. At least, not in the way Mark would think he would be playing it up. He doesn't look shocked, not even fake scared. He looks... distant. Disconnected. It's hard to tell if his eyes are focused. "Ethan?" Mark asks again.

Ethan jolts. “Y-yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll pay. Pay for it. I’ll pay for— for the— the—”

He trips over his words and Mark has spent enough time with Ethan now that he expects that, to a certain extent. But this sounds different, feels different. Ethan won’t look him in the eye. And his answer didn’t sound like a joke. It sounded serious. Like Ethan was really ready to hand over whatever money Mark asked for.

“Evan, put the camera down,” Mark mutters. He puts a personality on for the camera, they both do, but he wants Ethan to know he’s dropping the bit. He’s not playing for the audience right now.

Ethan’s eyes widen as Evan lowers the camera. “Mark?” he whispers.

"It was a joke, Ethan. I'm not going to ask you to pay me. Besides, we both know I make more than you, right?" Ethan doesn't laugh, not even a little smile. "Ethan, are you oka—"

He takes a step forward and Ethan flinches. "The camera's still on," Ethan blurts out. "It will— It— The recording's going to have sound. You— you can't—"

And maybe Ethan’s embarrassed about whatever’s going on, maybe he’s nervous Mark will keep it in to tease him about later.

"It's fine. We can just cut it out later. Don't worry about it, okay?"

Mark means to soothe him but it has the opposite effect. Ethan goes rigid. He keeps looking at Mark's hands.

"Are you okay, man? Are you good to keep recording?" Mark walks over to grab the megaphone.

Ethan’s hands fly up to protect his face. Mark freezes, still halfway reaching towards Ethan. He’s close enough to hear Ethan’s breaths coming faster, close enough to see him trembling.

“Ethan?” he whispers. His insides twists. “Come on, I’m not going to… I would never actually hurt you. Ethan.” He steps back but as soon as he starts moving, Ethan is practically scrambling away from him.

He almost falls over the bench when he stands. Mark watches Ethan turn towards the door and then immediately backtrack as he sees Evan blocking the exit. He ends up in the corner, hands up to keep them back.

His face is pale, scared.

Mark stays where he is, trying to look non-threatening. He's suddenly painfully aware of the position of power he's in. Years older than Ethan, more influential, owner of the house they're currently in. In some ways, stronger. In a lot of ways, quicker to anger. “I’m not angry,” he placates.

Ethan shakes his head. “Y-yes you are. You— you said you were going to punch me in the face. You said you wanted to kill me.”

“I didn’t mean that. Come on, Ethan, you know I didn’t mean that.”

“You punched a hole in the fucking wall. You— you—” Ethan sounds like he can't catch his breath. 

“Have I ever hurt you?” Mark asks, not coming any closer.

“Yes,” Ethan scowls. His hands are still shaking, white and thin and a sharp contrast to Mark's own red scraped knuckles.

“Not for a video. Really, purposefully hurt you. Or anyone.” And he has, just a fight or two in high school and it’s been years and he has a much better control on his temper now, but he doesn’t tell Ethan any of that. Not now.

“I— I—” Ethan's brow furrows. His defenses look like they’re dropping before the walls come back up. “You— you could though. You’re strong. If— if you— if you were angry enough.”

“I’m not angry. Frustrated, sure, but I’m not angry. We’ve been working together for years. You know you can trust me.” Mark tries to keep his voice low and soft. It feels like he’s trying to talk someone off the side of a building.

Ethan’s eyes go teary. For a second, Mark thinks he's going to cry and maybe that would be better, a sad and miserable Ethan rather than one half scared out of his mind. “I trust too easily. She—” He swallows, almost shakes his head. “You could change your mind. I— I know I’m annoying. I could make you change your mind.”

“I brought you out to LA.” Mark tries to appeal to all the years and history they've built. It backfires. 

“So what, I owe you now?” Ethan raises his voice. He sounds mad but he's still wild eyed, like he's looking for a way to escape.

Mark raises his own to answer him. “Of course you don’t!” Ethan flinches hard.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” The fear in his voice makes Mark sick. He just wants to get through to him. He doesn’t want Ethan to look at him like that, like Mark has already hurt him. Mark walks towards him and Ethan, already cornered, sinks down. “Please, please don’t— don’t—”

“I’m just saying you can trust me. You trusted me once.” Mark goes down on his knees next to Ethan. He wants to reach for Ethan’s hand but he doesn’t. Something about their position, him almost begging for Ethan to trust him, please just trust him, and Ethan still so shaken, makes a lump form in his throat. It feels like they’re breaking apart.

Ethan stares at him. He doesn’t reply.

There’s a whimpering and scratching at the door.

“Is that Spencer?” Evan asks. “I’ll let him in.”

“No, wait!” Ethan grabs onto Mark’s arm. Evan pauses halfway to the door. “He— he doesn’t have to come in. You don’t have to—” Ethan pleads with Mark, finally meeting his eyes, “You’re mad at me, right? Just— just do it to me. I can take it. Please—please don’t let him hurt Spencer.”

Something tightens in Mark’s chest. Something like dread. He doesn’t want to know why Ethan would say that, why Ethan would think that Evan would hurt Spencer.

“Okay, okay.” Mark gestures to Evan to stop. “Let’s all just… sit, calm down, take a breather. Okay?”

Ethan’s grip on him eases. He nods carefully. The tension defuses but only slightly.

And so they sit, Ethan still tucked in the corner, Mark besides him, and Evan following their lead. The camera lays in his lap, recording light still blinking.

A few minutes pass. A couple more. Mark listens to Ethan’s breathing even out, then speed up again, then even out as the other boy forces himself to calm down.

Mark meets Evan’s gaze and raises his eyebrows, trying to send him a meaningful look. He watches Evan’s jaw tighten.

“Ethan—” Evan starts.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Ethan finally seems to have put himself back together, if shakily. His eyes are locked on the ground, his body tense.

“It’s okay, Ethan. We’ll understand,” Mark tries.

“No, you won’t.” Ethan’s head ducks down. “You’ll think I’m weak.”

“Come on, Ethan. I had bullies when I was younger too. I know I don’t really talk about it but it still fucked me up a little.”

“Wasn’t a bully,” Ethan mutters. He sounds almost scornful. Like it would have been better for it to have been a bully.

Mark’s blood runs cold. “Who was it? Was it…”

Evan finishes his thought quietly, “Was it your parents?”

Ethan jerks up to glare at them. “What? No! What the fuck, why would you say that? My parents would never do that!” Mark feels a weird sense of relief at the outburst. This is a familiar emotion on Ethan, a fierce protectiveness of everyone close to him.

“Sorry, you said it wasn’t a bully so I assumed…” Evan shrugs.

“It wasn’t my parents,” Ethan says again, mostly to himself this time. “It was…” He swallows and steels himself. Mark sees his fingers press into the soft part of his forearm. “It was my girlfriend.”

Something bitter and vile rises up Mark’s throat. “Mika?” he asks. He thinks of all the times he’s seen them together, all the times she’d been in this very house, if this had been going on behind the scenes this whole time and how many times she might have hurt Ethan behind his back. The anger surges again, righteous fury this time.

“N-not Mika. Before her. I was dating another girl.” Ethan’s hands lace behind his neck, pushing his head farther down. Like he’s trying to drive himself into the ground. “I’m a lot. I know I’m just… I’m a lot.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Ethan growls. But he doesn’t look up. His voice drops lower. “You already get tired of me. We’re doing this for a year. Imagine if you actually had to spend every day with me. For two years. You’d get tired of me too, right? You’d be fed up. You’d be angry. Doesn’t take much.”

“I would never hit you.” Mark tries to keep his words even but god, he’s seething. He means it too. It’s natural to get frustrated with people after too much time spent together. But he would never lift a hand against someone he cared about. He would never hurt someone like Ethan, who always means well and already thinks so low of himself and works so hard in return for so little most days. He would never hurt Ethan.

“It’s not your fault,” Evan says.

“Yes it is.” Ethan’s tone brooks no argument.

Mark doesn’t know how to respond to that. How to argue that Ethan could never deserve to be hit. And what if it was worse than a slap? Were they open handed hits or closed first punches? Did they bruise? Did they break skin? What if it was worse than even that? 

He remembers thinking last year, just once, that Ethan was unreliable. There was a stretch where he would cancel their plans, come in late, not show up when they were supposed to meet. Never enough to really grab Mark's attention but so out of character, he realizes now. When he first brought Ethan out to LA, the other boy was always showing up early. He never missed a video deadline without an explanation. Now with their shared channel, Mark counts on Ethan even more.

Those months stick out. And maybe Mark isn’t remembering properly, maybe Mark’s memories are being manipulated by his fears, but maybe Ethan was quieter then, more subdued, maybe he wore hoodies even when the months got hotter. Maybe Mark remembers him hanging around as long as he could after they filmed together. Maybe Mark remembers sending him home, when home was a place Ethan didn’t want to go back to.

The silence hangs over them. He can’t shake this one last thought.

He shouldn’t ask but he does anyway. 

“Did she hurt Spencer?”

Ethan stiffens. His words are stilted. “I didn’t let her.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I didn’t let her,” Ethan asserts louder, like Mark doesn’t believe him.

“I know,” Mark whispers. His chest aches. What sacrifices did Ethan have to make to keep Spencer safe? “I know you would never let anyone hurt him.”

“I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let…” It sounds like Ethan is trying to reassure himself. He lands on, “He doesn’t deserve that.”

The words jump to the front of Mark’s mouth. He can’t stop them. “Did you? Deserve it?”

Ethan’s gaze skitters away. “Probably.”

Mark’s hands clench into fists. He feels his nails dig into his palms. Ethan notices.

“Ethan—”

“Don’t.”

It takes an almost physical effort for Mark to hold his tongue. He wants, no, needs Ethan to know that he couldn’t have deserved it. The thought of someone hitting Ethan, the thought of someone listening to his rambling and physically shutting him up, already makes Mark furious. But thought of Ethan standing there, skin red and bruised, and just taking it because he thinks he deserves it? That thought is worse.

But that’s a harder, longer conversation. Mark tries a different tact. “We can stop for today. Finish when you’re feeling better. We’re ahead a couple videos. You don’t have to—”

“No, we should finish. I didn’t even get on the bike yet. Video a day, right? We don’t have time for my fucking moping.” Ethan takes a deep breath and pushes himself to his feet. “Come on. Put the camera back on.”

“Are you—”

“Come on, Mark, you a scaredy cat or something? Worried you’re going to lose?”

“I am worried,” Mark says quietly. Ethan ignores him.

“Evan, put the camera up,” Ethan demands.

It’s like a shiver goes through Ethan’s body. Mark watches Evan bring the camera back up and this other Ethan, the quiet reserved scared Ethan, disappears. Hides. And Ethan’s smiling again, bouncing on his feet, but it feels like a perversion. Because Ethan is laughing and joking but he’s still keeping a safe distance from Mark and Evan. He still won’t meet their eyes. Mark goes with it anyway.

They finish filming the cut scene with Mark apologizing for getting angry and Ethan’s time on the bike and an outro.

“Alright, I’m gonna head out,” Ethan says as they wrap up. Spencer’s leash is looped tight around his wrist. His knuckles are white.

Mark blinks. “Oh. I’ll see you in a couple days, right?”

“Right. Bye.”

It’s the most impersonal goodbye they’ve ever shared. Ethan’s abrupt words, stripped of emotion, cut into Mark. Mark means to say more but he doesn’t. It’s too late. Ethan is already gone.

-

Ethan is late. They film on Thursdays. And he’s late.

Mark has half a mind to drive to Ethan’s house to check up on him. It’s all he’s thought about for the last couple of days. What is Ethan doing at home? Does he have people he can talk to, who can help him? Is he safe there? And maybe Ethan wants the space but the not knowing is killing Mark.

“Maybe he bailed for today,” Evan suggests. His fingers tap on the camera, just the mindless click of powerless buttons.

Mark checks his phone again. No notifications. “He would have texted. And he’s never late,” he says.

Mark stares at the floorboards. He thinks of the harsh note they left off on when Ethan left. They didn’t really resolve anything, did they? He just sent Ethan home right after the other boy basically had a panic attack and he didn’t even ask if Ethan was okay.

Mark shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have let him go.”

“What were you going to do? Keep him here? Not let him leave?”

“I shouldn’t have let him go home alone.” Mark’s face twists.

“You don’t own him.” Evan’s words are gentle. He keeps clicking the camera buttons. It’s the only sound in the room.

“I don’t want to film today,” Mark says suddenly. He takes a deep breath. “I want to know he’s okay.”

“Then you should just talk to him. He still looks up to you.”

“He doesn’t.” Mark laughs. It’s not funny. “And I wouldn’t want him to. If anything, I think he resents me sometimes. It’s—”

“I don’t resent you.” Mark’s head snaps up as Ethan walks into the room, Spencer trailing on his heels. “And you don’t get to say that for me.”

“Ethan.” Mark takes him in for a second. He looks fine, if a little tense. Like he’s bracing himself. “I thought you might not come.”

“Said I would. I was just late.” A muscle in Ethan’s jaw strains.

“I was…” Mark shares a glance with Evan. “I was just worried.”

“Look, I’m glad you care—”

“Of course I care!” And his voice is too loud again but he feels the need to defend himself. He knows he doesn’t always act like it but there's nothing he wouldn't do to protect the people he cares about. If he just knew how to protect them.

“Mark.” Ethan looks at him for a moment. Mark manages not to retort. Finally, Ethan continues, “All I’m saying is that it was years ago. You caught me on a bad day but I’ve been fine this whole time. You didn’t even know.”

Guilt sweeps through Mark, coiling in his stomach.

“That doesn’t mean it’s okay. That doesn’t mean you’re fine. I can’t just let this go. If someone hurt you, that’s not fucking okay.”

“I know it’s not okay. But it’s my business, Mark—”

“I know that—”

“Obviously you don’t!” Ethan’s voice rises. “I knew it would be like this. You need to fix it but you can’t fix it anymore, Mark. You can’t just win at this. You can’t beat me in this like everything else. It happened, it happened to me, and nothing you do will be able to change that!”

Mark stares at him. Is that what Ethan had thought this whole time? For the couple of days they’d been apart? That Mark only wanted to help because he wanted to win? Like this was just some fucked up game?

Ethan swallows and balks. “Sorry, I didn’t—I know that’s not what you think and I know…” He pinches at the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to be difficult. I didn’t mean to yell like that. I just don’t know what… what you want. What do you want, Mark?”

“I want you to be okay," Mark murmurs. 

“I am okay.”

“I want…” What does he want? “I want to make it go away.”

“You can’t make it go away, Mark,” Ethan says softly.

Mark's shoulders drop. The fight goes out of him. "I know." He drags his gaze back up to Ethan's. "Tell me about it?" he asks.

Ethan bites his lip. "You sure you want to hear it? It's not… it's not nice."

"I want to know. I would rather know."

"And you won't—" Ethan hesitates. "You won't think of me differently? Because it was my— I mean, I already told you it was a girl but just don't—" Ethan sighs and looks up at the ceiling. "Please don't joke or— or make fun of me or whatever. I know it's fucking dumb and I can take a joke but just, not about this."

Mark feels sick at the thought. He wonders if it’s happened before. "I wouldn't."

"I know. I know but… I know,” Ethan settles on, nodding. He doesn’t look sure though.

"I won't either. Obviously,” Evan adds. Ethan gives a short, stunted laugh.

Ethan rocks back on his feet as he starts. "Right, so… we dated. Me and her. For a while. I dunno. A year maybe? No, probably less than that. Whatever, doesn't matter. And I… I just came here from Maine and it was so fucking hot all the time,” Ethan looks out the window where the sun beats down on the pavement. He seems to drift away for a second before focusing back in, “and I was working for you and that was super great but I guess I felt… I felt small all the time. I didn't think anyone would ever want me? Yeah. Then I met this girl and she just… she wanted me. She liked me. That was enough. I just wanted to feel… needed.”

“I need you here. I wanted you here,” Mark insists.

Ethan closes his eyes. “Please just… don’t interrupt me, okay? I need to like, psyche myself up to tell you and I can’t if you’re— if you’re gonna—”

“Sorry.” The feelings roil in Mark’s chest. Guilt, anger, fear, regret, all swelling, ribs cracking under the pressure. He hates not knowing the right thing to do, to say.

“It’s okay, it’s fine. It’s okay. I’m gonna keep going now,” Ethan says, rushing into his next words. “It was really great, being with her. It was really fucking great. Then she just got fed up with me. I don’t know what happened. I got too comfortable, I guess. Too loud, you know? I just… if I don't watch myself, I get fucking crazy. Just super fucking annoying. It's a lot to handle. I wouldn't want to make anyone handle me.” Ethan’s hand circles his own wrist, twisting and rubbing the skin. Mark isn’t sure he notices.

“I would talk. A lot,” Ethan continues. “For a while, she would, um, she would kiss me to get me to stop talking. I didn't really realize until— well, yeah. But I guess she got tired of that. And then one time I was going off and she just slapped me. To shut me up. And I mean, it worked. A lot better than the kissing probably. So she just… kept doing it. And I kept letting it happen because I was embarrassed. I could’ve stopped her. But I knew why she would want to… want to hit me. I understood the feeling. It’s not like she was doing it for no reason, you know?” 

Ethan looks at Mark like he expects him to nod. Like he expects Mark to say, yes, of course, that sounds like a completely legitimate reason. Mark doesn’t nod. Ethan’s gaze darts back to the floor.

“Anyway, it just got worse than I thought it would. It got kind of bad. And I had to break it off." Ethan scuffs his feet in the silence. "So yeah. That's that. That’s it. I’m done now if you… if you had anything you wanted to say. Or not.”

“Ethan,” Mark says. He stops himself. He wants to say it right, not like a joke, not like a bit.

“Yeah?” Ethan prompts. He can’t seem to stay still, arms crossing and uncrossing, feet shuffling.

“Do you know now?”

Ethan pauses. “Know what?”

“Do you know that you didn’t deserve it?”

“Y-yeah. Course I do.” Ethan tries to laugh it off. Mark doesn’t let him. 

“Do you? Do you really believe it? Because that’s not what you said yesterday.”

“I, um—” Ethan rubs a hand over his eye. “I do. Honestly, I do, Mark. Just… sometimes I have a hard time remembering it.”

“I can remind you. Will you let me know if you forget? If you feel like that again? If it happens again?”

Ethan stalls, lips parting but no words coming out. And Mark is sure that he won’t agree. Ethan will never feel safe with him again and this will be the start of a road of secrets between them that Ethan won’t be able to share. All because Mark let his anger get the best of him.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” Ethan takes a deep breath and Mark is surprised to find that he believes him. Relief flows through him. There will be other chances to do better. That’s the most he could hope for.

But Ethan isn’t finished. “And… look, Mark. Meeting you, coming out to LA, doing this channel, it really changed my life. I just… I want to say thank you. For all of that. For this. Everything. You don’t know what it means to me.” Ethan claps his hands together. This time his smile looks real. “Let’s film. We can talk more about this later but I’m ready to film some more. Memento mori, unus annus, baby! Making the most of our time while we have it!”

“Making the most of our time,” Mark repeats. He smiles back at Ethan. 

The channel may have less than a year but they have time. To become better. To heal. To grow. 

They have time.


	2. Chapter 2

00:00:00:00


End file.
